6 Life Lessons from the Guy in the Bright Orange Robe

Act #139:  Keep compassion simple.

Yesterday I drove two hours, stood in line for an hour and a half, and sat and waited for two more hours - in seats so crammed together there wasn't enough room for me to even cross my legs.... just to hear Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama speak for 45 minutes.  Worth every second.  Here's what I learned.

1.  You can be holy and funny at the same time. 
When you exude truth with every fiber of your being, you can also be a 78-year old Asian man in a bright orange robe, a matching visor, and over-sized sun glasses and still have 15,000 people hanging on your every word.  What I will remember most about my experience with the Dalai Lama is the deep, rich, heartiness of his laugh and it's unspoken powers to calm and connect those of us lucky enough to be in his presence.

2.  Monks have more in common than their religion.
His holiness spoke at length about the time he spent with Trappist monk, Thomas Merton.  He recalled fondly spending 3 hours every day with him for 3 days, drinking tea and comparing daily rituals of Tibetan monkhood and Christian monkhood.  They discussed how faith was powerful enough to transform the human experience, and they had unwaivering confidence that their respect towards other faiths only made stronger, their commitment to their own.

3.  We have more in common than our religions. 
The Dalai Lama repeatedly stressed that all religions (should) practice compassion and strive for harmony.  He urged us not to let religion be the force that separates us.  We need each other - the physical survival of human beings is based entirely on the care and compassion of others. We should all meditate on love.

4.  Prayer isn't enough.
The Dalai Lama accepted the "limitations of prayer" and while he did not minimize the importance and sacredness of it, he believed that to truly engage in compassionate living, one must not only pray, but act accordingly.

5.  Human beings make everything too darn complicated. 
At the end of his talk, audience members lined up behind a microphone to ask the Dalai Lama questions.  They asked about capitalism, forgiveness, poverty, and his views on environmental issues.  They were smart, highly educated (if I had to guess), and articulate.  They were all white.  And I dare say that most of the global population that they referenced in their questions, would not be able to relate to them.  The single most important thing that I learned last night is that compassion is  simple.  We're the ones that try to make it a complex theory, philosophy, when in reality, it just is what we should all do, practice, be. 

6.  That is all.  That is life.
Go ahead and take a moment, and let that sink in.

5 Asians Who Changed the Way We Saw Asians

Act #138:  The days of Long Duk Dong are over, people.

Myth #1:  Asian women are sweet and demure.
 Margaret Cho comedian and social critic extraordinaire

Myth #2:  All Asians are short.
Jeremy Lin of the Houston Rockets

Myth #3:  Asians only know how to play the violin.
James Iha was the guitarist and co-founder of the alternative rock band Smashing Pumpkins
 

Myth #4:  Asian men lack in sex appeal.
Daniel Henney portrayed Agent Zero in the film X-Men Origins:  Wolverine

Myth #5:  Asian girls don't kick ass.
Tammy Duckworth, U.S. Representative from Illinois and Iraq War veteran who lost both of her legs when the UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter that she was co-piloting was hit by a rocket propelled grenade fired by Iraqi insurgents

What Do Teachers, Comedians, and Meeting Facilitators Have in Common?

Act #138:  Include (but don't call out) the Asian girl in the room.

Dear Teachers, Comedians, and Meeting Facilitators,

This is an apology letter of sorts so I hope you bear with me.   I've been confusing you for years so I wanted to try to offer some personal reflections, maybe even some clarity - not only for you, but maybe for myself too.  You see, I was always that only brown girl in class in elementary school.  You know, the one you'd ask to stand up to share with the entire class my experiences with all things "Asian".  Jane, you speak another language don't you?  Do you mind saying something for the class?  Jane, can you tell your friends what different holidays your family celebrates?  For some reason, this felt particularly embarrassing to the 7 year-old-me, to have to do so in front of my first-grade crush, Baron.  As I grew into adulthood, I developed an aversion to stand-up comedy because after a while it started getting old being on a date with a guy and having to sit through hot Asian chicks, me-love-you-long-time, and Hello Kitty jokes.  And when I first became a professional, and found myself serving on committees, I had no idea I was actually representing an entire race of people!  That is, until it became pretty common for everyone in the room to pause, turn all of their heads towards me, and ask, what do YOU think about this, Jane?  We want to make sure that your perspective is heard.  How about bald, white guy in the corner, Frank?  Doesn't anyone want to hear his perspective? 

So, I guess the point of this letter is to first and foremost, apologize for being so darned confusing.  One moment I celebrate my Asian-ess, the next I'm embarrassed being called out for it.  Trust me, for years I was just as confused as you, which is why I sort of went along with the flow and just gave you what you asked for. So what is it that I want?  Well, for starters, I want to be treated just like everyone else in the room.  If you call me out, I want it to be for something I accomplished, did, achieved - and not because of who my ancestors are.  Now this doesn't mean that I want you to pretend I'm white, middle-class, straight, and Protestant.  Because, while that may be the going desired standard, it certainly is not reflective of the diversity of all life experiences.  I want you to consider that those experiences may vary greatly.  I want you, as the captor of your audience, to frame your remarks and your thoughts, with this diversity in mind.  Even bald, white guy in the corner, Frank - he could be Jewish, gay, or married to someone of color.

I'm sorry it took me so long to finally figure out how to articulate this 40-year discomfort - in a way that I hope, makes some sense to you.  And now that I have a little brown boy of my own, I hope he grows up embracing the beauty of his heritage, but I also hope that he can simply enjoy just being a regular little boy in first grade,  being someone's charming date at a comedy club, and being a contributing member of a committee -without having to represent anyone but himself.

Sincerely,
The only Asian in the room

P.S.  Some of the people I admire most are teachers, comedians, and have led some very productive meetings.  I hope you know that my intentions are not to call you out or to blame you for anything, but rather to finally invite you to my table.  There's room for everyone.

Translating Pat Robertson's Marriage Advice

Act #137:  Please, people, don't take marriage advice from a televangelist (he hates being called that, by the way).

Pat's Advice: 
Men are expected to cheat.  Wives should try hard to forgive them and fall in love with them again- mainly because they provide a home, food, clothes and are nice to the children.  The secret is for wives to make homes so wonderful that husbands do not wander.

What I Hope  He Is Trying To Say:
Just like any other relationship, marriages are vulnerable and should not be taken for granted.  Both partners should commit and contribute to the marriage equally, although they may do so in very different ways.   The secret is for both partners to invest their time and positive energy into creating a home environment that is trusting, supportive, and loving.

Why His Words Are So Scary:
This view implies that all men are gullible, untrustworthy, and weak, with no control over their own impulses.  It completely takes away all responsibility from husbands and implies that a wife has the power to stop her husband from cheating simply by being a good homemaker.

_______________________________________________________

Pat's Advice:
Awful-looking women can cause marriages to lose their spark. Wives should not hassle husbands for flirting - they just need to make themselves as attractive as possible.  

What I Hope He Is Trying To Say:
It is important for both partners to continue to feed their souls, respect and nourish their bodies, and explore personal goals and interests, so that they can be happy, fulfilled, and contributing partners.
 
Why His Words Are So Scary:
Once again, Pat says nothing about how husbands should also take care of themselves.  Also, does this mean that wives can flirt freely, with their husband's complete support and understanding?  And that husbands just need to lay off the beer and hit the gym in order to keep wives coming home?

_______________________________________________________

Pat's Advice:
When a wife doesn't respect her husband as head of the house, she is a rebellious child who doesn't want to submit to authority.  The husband could always become a Muslim and beat her.   While wife-beating isn't condoned these days, something needs to be done to stop her.  

What I Hope He Is Trying To Say:
I'm losing my mind and should probably be taken off the air immediately before I ruin the reputation of Christianity for all humankind.

Why His Words Are So Scary:
The 700 Club is the flagship daily show of the Christian Broadcasting Network, which is one of the longest-running television shows in broadcast history.  People seeking hope and spiritual direction are often influenced by these patriarchal and oppressive ideological views about marriage that serve to perpetuate sexism and a culture of violence against women.  (Note:  Pat's damaging views on Islam are worthy of a separate blog entirely.)
 

 

Confessions of a Privileged Middle-Class Mom

Act #136:  Own your privileges and prejudices.  Move beyond them.

My son is entering the first grade this fall and this is the first summer we needed to make arrangements (other than daycare), to keep him occupied.  I had spent the last week or so scouring options that range from theater camps to Legos camps and was on my way to tour a local non-profit community arts center that has been around for 35 years, with the mission to "make arts accessible to all".  I had signed my son up for a week-long art class and was on my way to meet with the summer program director just to tour the facility and ask a few questions about safety policies.  This place was only about 2 blocks away from my office, yet I had never really noticed it.  It was nestled on a beautiful one acre inner city lot - a breathtaking 7,000 square-foot antebellum Italianate mansion.  As I turned the corner on the street it was located, I began noticing my surroundings - a homeless man pushing a shopping cart who was talking to himself, a dilapidated vehicle with loud rap music blaring from it's speakers parked just across the street, rows and rows of run-down houses - some with boarded up windows, and a sprinkling of loitering individuals who just seemed to be standing on street corners for no apparent reason.  It was at this moment that I decided that I was not going to leave my son unattended for an entire week in this seemingly "unsafe" environment.  I would keep my appointment with the art director and be as nice as can be, then I would call and cancel my son's reservation at a later date, citing some unavoidable, unforeseen change of plans.  By the time I pulled my car into the parking lot and put my gear in park, I was completely disgusted with myself on so many levels.  First and foremost, since when did I become this privileged 40-year old mom who was too good to expose her kid to walks of life different than the pristine middle class suburban neighborhood that he was accustomed to?  Worse yet, how did I come to define in my mind, that neighborhoods like these were somehow less safe, less desirable than the one I lived in.  And then I asked myself the question I could barely face, one that physically made me sick to my stomach.  Was my hesitancy based on some deep-rooted prejudice towards low-income, transitional, predominantly African-American neighborhoods and loud rap music?  Of course it was.  And that was a hard, hard thing to admit, while sitting in my locked car alone, in the parking lot of this glorious antebellum mansion.

I went on to meet with the art director and not only did I not cancel my reservation, I signed my son up for a second class.  It is because of people like me - who allow creeping thoughts of classism and racism to go unchallenged, unquestioned - that we continue to live in segregated neighborhoods and walks of lives that often do not intersect in any meaningful ways.  I shudder to think about what my son would have been missing if he had been denied this experience solely because of his mom's personal unfound biases.  Following my meeting, as I walked to my car, I said hello to the homeless man with the shopping cart.  I hope it's not too late to raise my son to grow up to be the type of person who would do the same.

Name That Super Hero!

Act #135:  Tell your boys about the real life superheroes.

Inspired by this photographer's efforts (http://fstoplounge.com/2013/05/real-women-forget-the-disney-princesses/) to expose her daughter to alternatives to princesses by teaching her about real-life women heroines, I wanted to do the same for my son.  I looked in his toy bin and found a dozen or so "super heroes" who all battle evil by using violence.  I wanted to offer him alternatives to these superheroes by teaching him about great, strong, men who have impacted the world through kindness and other non-violent acts of heroism.  Can you name these superheroes?  Can you add to this list?

Super Power:  Compassion!
Viewed the uprising of his people as an expression of widespread discontent, he denounced oppression and established a government in exile.  Traveled the world advocating for fairness, promoting interfaith dialogue, and helping others to see that compassion is the source of happiness.
  

Super Power: Civil Disobedience!
One of the greatest orators of American history, he organized a nonviolent resistance movement that would change the course of his country.  He tirelessly fought for equality and justice.


Super Power: Economic Theory!
Fighting to eradicate poverty through economic and social development, he developed the concepts of microcredit and microfinance, loans given to entrepreneurs too poor to qualify for traditional bank loans. 


Super Power:  Medicine!
Founder of  a hospital for needy children where no suffering child would be turned away.  Since it's inception, the hospital has treated thousands of children for cancer and other catastrophic diseases.


Super Power:  Love!
Opponent of apartheid and defender of worldwide human rights, he has campaigned to fight AIDS, tuberculosis, poverty, racism, sexism, and homophobia.  


Super Power:  Farm Labor!
Through his aggressive but nonviolent tactics and community-based grass roots organizing, he made the struggle of manual laborers a moral cause with nationwide support for workers.

 Answers:
1.  Tenzin Gyatso (14th Dalai Lama and Nobel Peace Prize recipient)
2.  Martin Luther King, Jr. (Civil Rights Leader)
3.  Mohammad Yunnus (Banker, economist and Nobel Peace Prize recipient)
4.  Danny Thomas (Founder of St. Jude Children's Research Hospital)
5.  Desmond Tutu (Social rights activist and retired Anglican bishop)
6. Cesar Chavez (Farm worker and labor organizer)

3 Ways I've Been Touched By Mental Illness Just This Weekend

Act #134:  Understand mental illness and how it impacts you and/or those around you.

1.  Friday:  The blog that changed my life
This intentionally crude web comic is one of the most brilliant and eye-opening descriptions of depression that I've ever come across:  http://www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/.  For years I've had two people very, very close to me who have struggled with bouts of minor depression and for years I thought that the only way to help was to offer hope and constant positive affirmations, blindly assuming that they were even capable of desiring hope and affirmation.  In 2011 author Allie Brosh chronicled her journey with depression, then stopped blogging for 6 months.  This past week she resurfaced with this blog entry.  Do yourself a favor, read it.  Even if you think this has nothing to do with you, you might be surprised.

2.  Saturday:  The "crazy" lady at Target
While shopping at Target this weekend, I accidentally walked into a shopping cart.  I apologized to the lady (even though her cart was blocking the entire aisle) and told her she was fine.  She then proceeded to declare loudly so that all patrons could hear.  I know I'm fine, you're the one walking into carts!  My immediate reaction was anger and I thought to myself, How rude! But upon further reflection, it occurred to me that something just wasn't quite right, so I instead nicely told the lady to have a nice day.  She put her hand up to my face, turned her face the other way and said, Too much conversation happening here, and walked away.  I just stood there in the aisle smiling sadly because 1.) I was a bit embarrassed that I was just publicly told off; and 2.) For some reason, all I could think, was that she was once someone's baby girl a long, long time ago.

3.  Sunday:  The client who is mad at me
While I can't really provide many details about this for obvious reasons, anyone working in social services/mental health can probably relate to a client whose mental health state challenges you to critically assess the manner in which you are able to provide them with the services they need.  Sadly, in the field of sexual violence advocacy/services, mentally disabled individuals are among the most vulnerable.  A 2012 World Health Organization study revealed that disabled adults are 1.5 times more likely to be a victim of violence than those without a disability, while those with mental health conditions are at nearly four times the risk of experiencing violence. 

If you think that this is an issue that has nothing to do with you, think again.  Statistically speaking, if you are not personally inflicted with mental illness, chances are you have multiple friends, family, or loved ones who are.  May is mental health awareness month.  For more information on how you can become more aware or get involved, please visit:

http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/go/may

 

 

30-Second Rant of an Angry Little Brown Girl

Act #133:  Don't mistake my passion for anger.

So finally, I'm getting a first-hand glimpse at what my black female friends have been experiencing their entire lives:  when I speak up against something, people worry that they've pissed me off.  This is a new phenomenon for me, because you see, I've been painfully diplomatic all of my life - up until about a year ago.   One might say that I'm the ultimate people-pleaser, a formerly trained mediator, the one people go to for help when they want to appease a situation or a person.  And one might say that in the past year, after disassociating myself with a highly public job, and finding myself finally advocating for things I deeply value, I've gotten quite comfortable, well.... speaking my mind.  In fact I start to squirm and get fidgety if I don't speak up.  Now, I'm not an equal opportunity spokesperson for all issues of the world.  While I probably wouldn't speak up if my meal were prepared incorrectly or if a party guest smelled bad, if someone tells me that all international students who come to the U.S. are spoiled and manipulative, well, I may just have to speak up.  I also might be compelled to speak up if someone assigned blame to a victim of sexual violence, failed to consider the racial biases of our judicial system when discussing capital punishment, or assumed that all people had the choice to pull themselves up by the bootstraps.  Ok, Ok, I admit it, if these conversations all took place in the course of one weekend and I have "spoken up" every time these topics were discussed, I may come across to the masses as someone who takes issue with a lot of things, but be assured, this sweet little Asian gal isn't about to blow her top off.  She just cares about the future of the world you are living in, and has something to say about how we might all help make it better for everyone. If being passionate about justice  equates anger, then folks, shouldn't we all be at least a little bit angry?

3 Parenting Tactics My Mom Used On Me That I Would Never Use On My Son (But That I'm Truly Thankful For)

Act #132:  Celebrate the diversity in mothering and parenting.  No one person has it all figured out.

She made me go to the store alone when I was 6.
As a child, I was painfully shy.  It hurt just to look someone in the face.  I remember starting 1st grade at a new school and hiding in a janitor's closet for what felt like an eternity because I was terrified to go to my class.  My mom was, and is still, one of the most extroverted women I know and she was at wits end in her efforts to help me adjust and adapt to my social surroundings.  So one day, when I was 6 years old, we ran out of bread and my mother asked me to go the store to buy bread.  By myself.  Granted the store was just down the road from our apartment and she watched me through my entire route, I still thought I was literally going to die.  Looking back, that was definitely a turning point in my childhood - I discovered that people might actually listen when I had something to say.  I discovered that deep inside of me I possessed an untapped courage to navigate the big, scary world (aka our neighborhood sidewalk) on my own.

She didn't talk to me for a whole week.
When I was about 9 years old I went through this phase where I lied.  A lot.  About everything - you name it.  I lied about taking baths (gross, right?), whether or not I finished my lunch at school, how I was doing in math class.  I don't know what I was going through but I couldn't stop myself, it was almost compulsive.  My mother tried everything from spanking to denying me of my toys and privileges, but nothing worked.  The final straw came when I forgot an extra pair of gym shoes on the school bus during a field trip and I was too afraid to tell my parents the truth.  So naturally I told them I had no idea where they had gone.  Maybe somebody had broken into our home to steal my ratty pair of gym shoes (and nothing else).  Of course I was found out when the school returned the shoes to my parents....and I lied again - I had no idea that they were left on the bus.  Some kid must have taken them out of my book bag and hidden them on the bus just so I could get in trouble.  So when I woke up the next day, all of a sudden my mother stopped talking to me.  She wouldn't respond to my questions.  She barely looked at me in the face.  My heart was broken and I felt invisible.  And when she began to talk to me again 7 days later, I never lied again.

She cheated when we played board games.
So I was apparently a pretty sharp kid.  My mother tells me stories of family board game nights where I would 100% consistently beat both my parents.  You name it - CandyLand, Simon Says, Superfection (clearly I was a child of the 80's), I kicked everyone's butts and I was starting to get a bit cocky about it.  So one day my mother cheated.  Yes, that's right.  When I wasn't looking, she manipulated the Gumdrop Path to beat me to King Kandy's Palace, with the sole intention of making me feel what it was like to lose.  And that I did.  And while at first, I was devastated, I survived.  And I learned that day an important lesson in humility.  I learned to lose gracefully, and more importantly I learned that there was so much more to life than winning.

My mother was a 23-year old new immigrant working two minimum-wage jobs and living in an apartment in the suburbs of Chicago when she had me.  When I had my son, I was 12 years older, owned my own home, and with inflation, I was earning about 5 times as much as she was.  I had also paid $300 for a parenting class and read about 12 books on the topic before I even gave birth.  My  instructor would cringe at the parenting choices my mom made, and if I had to be honest, I  won't likely use any of these tactics on my five-year old son.  Especially since he's not nearly as brilliant as I was at CandyLand.  But I can't imagine what kind of adult I might have become if my mother hadn't made the choices she did.  I'm thankful that she did the absolute best she could, with her skill set and unorthodox ways as a young mother, to instill in me valuable life lessons about courage, honesty, and humility.  I'm thankful that to this day, she continues to believe in my strength (even during the times that I don't believe in my own), holds me to the highest level of integrity, and never ceases to remind me through her words and actions, that if you focus entirely on the destination, you may just lose sight in the beauty of the journey.

Why I Started to Dress Like Ellen

Act #131:  Judge us for more than our sex appeal.  Especially when we are at work, people. 

A year ago when I worked at a college and attended the annual commencement services, I wore a dress, pearls, and high heels.  Last weekend, I attended the college graduation of a young friend and I wore jeans, a tie, a blazer, and tennis shoes.   I looked in the mirror and thought to myself, Gee, I look like an Asian Ellen DeGeneres!  Don't get me wrong, I am certainly one who can appreciate expressive fashion and style.  I also appreciate the beauty in femininity and in celebrating female curves.  What I don't appreciate is when that fashion and style purposefully and systematically objectifies and sexualizes females for no apparent reason at all, other than to provide gratification for someone else (aka "males".)  Case in point:
 
The Cheerleader
With abs like these, how can you not win?  Go team.

The Bar Server
Even if our ribs suck, we hope our flannel half-shirts keep you coming back for more!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Professional Dancer

I'm sure the belly cut-outs and 5-inch heels are probably to ensure maximum movement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Scholarship Pageant Contestant

 Why of course this swimsuit proves that I'm worthy for a college scholarship.

 

 

The Pro Beach Volleyball Athlete
I'd like to see males play in their underwear.

The Witty Talk-show Host
What's that, you can actually find my wit and sense of humor appealing, without wanting to picture me naked?